They say monsters hide in the dark.
They lie. Mine walks into the room in a tailored black suit, blood still drying on his cuffs, and eyes that burn like fire licked by ice.
I should run. I should scream. I want to disappear… far away from all of this.
Because even now—after everything he's done—I still crave the sound of his voice more than I fear the weight of his sins. He steps closer, the floorboards groaning under his boots, and I feel my heartbeat stumble. Not from fear, but from the way his presence devours the air between us.
"I told you not to leave the estate," he says, his voice like velvet wrapped around steel. "Do you know what they would've done if they found you out there… without me?"
"I should hate him… every part of me *should*—
But why can't I?
Why does my heart still whisper his name when my soul begs to forget?"
He screamed at the top of his lungs— 'Answer me!'
The room itself seemed to tremble, as if even the walls feared his fury.
"I'm not your prisoner, Adrien Vasilis," I whisper.
"No," he murmurs. "You're worse. You're mine."
I should've slapped him.
But instead, I just stood there… like a fool wrapped in silence, my chest rising and falling too fast for my own good. He stared at me like he could read every thought I didn't dare speak aloud. Maybe he could. Monsters always know how to sniff out weakness—especially the ones you secretly want to hold you. "I don't belong to anyone," I said, but the words tasted like a lie even to me. His lips curled into something between a smile and a threat. "No, you don't. That's why I'll burn the whole world to keep you." He leaned in closer to me, as if he wanted to erase every bit of distance that still remained between us. I stood frozen like a statue, unable to move, caught in the intensity of the moment.
And then—
A knock. Three sharp raps against the door. His entire body tensed. In an instant, his movements and expression changed completely. The person who had been with me all this time suddenly felt like someone else entirely. He opened the door, I saw it—blood.
On the man standing outside. On his shirt.
And fear. In his eyes.
"They've found the girl." someone leaked it. He said.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
My location?
They were coming for me.
He turned to me slowly. No more teasing in his voice now. Just command. Power. "Pack what you need. You have five minutes."
And just like that, whatever I thought I understood about this man—this life—was gone.
I wasn't a guest. I wasn't even a lover. I was a target.
And now… I was on the run with the devil himself.
Adrien's pov,, She thinks I'm cold.
Ruthless. Unfeeling. Good. Let her think that.
If she saw how much of me already belonged to her—
She'd run. Not from fear… but from the weight of my need. The second I saw blood on Viktor's shirt, I knew.
Someone crossed a line.
Someone was going to die screaming tonight.
I've never wanted anything in my life the way I want her. But first, I had to get her out.
She looked at me from across the room—barefoot, shaken, but still standing like a goddamn storm I never saw coming. I almost told her to forget the packing. I almost threw her over my shoulder and carried her out.
Instead, I just nodded once.
Five minutes. That's all she'd get.
I turned to Viktor. "Find out who leaked her location. Quietly. I want their head in a box before sunrise." He didn't blink. He knew I meant every word.
Because this isn't about territory anymore.
This isn't about power.
This is about her.
And if they think I won't tear down cities, burn families, and gut empires to protect her—
Then they've forgotten who the hell I am. I walked back into the room as she zipped up a small black duffel. Her hands trembled slightly. She tried to hide it. "You ready?" I asked.
She looked up at me—eyes wide, still full of questions, and something else.
Something like trust. It undid something in me I didn't know was tied. "I don't even know where we're going," she whispered.
I reached for her hand. "Somewhere no one will touch you. Not while I'm breathing."
She didn't pull away. She should have.
The night outside was ink-black, the kind of darkness that swallows everything whole.
Even sound. Even breath.
We'd been driving for almost an hour. Neither of us had said a word.
But his presence filled the car like smoke—dense, suffocating, impossible to ignore.
I watched him from the corner of my eye—one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the gun by his thigh like it belonged there. Like it was part of him.
This wasn't a man.
This was a weapon.
Sharp. Deadly. And terrifyingly beautiful in the worst kind of way.
I should be scared. I should ask him to stop, to let me out, to tell me what the hell is happening.
But I didn't.
Because deep down… a sick part of me trusted him. His jaw was tight, his eyes locked on the road—but I saw it in the way he exhaled.
He was trying to stay calm.
For me. "You don't have to protect me, you know," I said finally, my voice soft, like it might break in my throat. "I didn't ask you to." He glanced at me, something dangerous flickering behind his eyes.
I'm not protecting you because you asked me to," he said. "I'm doing it because I want to. Because if they touch you—"
His fingers curled around the steering wheel like he was imagining someone's throat instead.
"I'll kill them all."
I looked away, out the window, pretending the goosebumps on my arms were from the cold.
But they weren't.
"Why me?" I whispered. "Out of everyone… why are you risking this for me?" Silence.
Then—quiet, but full of everything he'd never say out loud—
"Because you look at me like I'm not a monster."
I turned my head slowly.
Our eyes locked. And for the first time, I saw it.
Not the killer. Not the mafia boss. But the man beneath the blood. And that scared me more than everything else combined. I still remember that day.